This is a new twist for me. This story was written in collaboration with my dear pet, lover, confidant and friend Pamela. We each expressed the viewpoints of our respective characters in the story. I have not edited her parts and she has not edited Mine. I hope everyone enjoys this as much as we both had a lot of fun working on it.
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Pamela's Reward
I could not believe it as I held the book in my hand. I read the title over and over, and studied the cover, committing every detail of it to memory lest it should somehow disappear into an ephemeral haze. I wanted to scream my joy, to jump, to dance. Instead I just cradled it close to my breast and wept, the emotions of the last months coming to the forefront as my dream had finally come true. I was a published author.
It was all thanks to Pamela. After months of stubbornly trying to publish it through My own means and meeting with very limited success, I had finally given in and decided to hire a professional. I was glad I had.
Pamela and I had hit it off the moment we first met, and as we had worked together the past few weeks, I had felt a friendship develop, and maybe even a bit of an attraction.
I have been dreaming of being an author since I was a little girl and now, at 24, my dream was coming true. If I may say so, I have grown into an attractive young woman, with lovely blonde hair which falls just beneath my breasts and deep brown eyes. At 5'1 and just a bit over a hundred pounds, most people tended to underestimate me, but it was something I relished and tried to use to my advantage.
I was sitting on a comfortable black chair with leather covering in Pamela's office, dressed in a dark blue crop top with a matching knee length skirt, with dark nylon panty hose and a pair of 3 inch closed toe black heels. My blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and I was also wearing my rectangular black eyeglasses.
I leaned over and pulled out the contents of the small leather bag I had brought with me, setting two wine glasses and a 2015 Pinot Noir on her desk. I flashed a triumphant smile at Pamela and asked "care for a glass to celebrate?"
She nodded and I pulled the cork, filled both glasses and set them on her desk to allow the wine to breathe a little as I studied her more closely.
Pamela's thoughts:
I was sitting to the side of my desk with a small round table between Elana and me as she poured the wine. From my view, Elana seemed like a goddess because she was so symmetrical and petite. I hoped Elana would be impressed by my black skirt with a deep vent up the back that showed a lot more leg than her skirt. I had chosen a sheer blue blouse for a reason but only buttoned it about half way. I had on a pair of 4-inch black leather pumps. I made sure Elana could clearly see pale white skin above the tops of my black stockings as I sat with legs crossed and my knees pointed to one side.
I hoped Elana would be pleased by having an all-natural woman tending to her accounts. At 5'10" i'm tall and leggy with a deep cleavage created by the thin but conforming material of my bra. Whenever she looked at me, my brown eyes smiled a fresh hello her way. I could clearly see her staring at my long slender fingers as she showed me the report from the publisher. My nails were manicured perfectly but not long, and were painted with a glistening blood red polish that matched my lipstick. I wondered if Elana wanted to know more about the parts of my body she couldn't see on the surface. I would find out later that she liked to pull my shoulder-length auburn hair, and she liked that my pussy was shaved smooth. I swore that I could feel her eyes on my wide hips, muscular calves and elegantly slim ankles as I heard her being shown into my office by my secretary. I could feel her sizing up my proportional figure which I'd call plumpish, and her eyes seemed to always follow the bounce in my breasts and the jiggle in my behind when I moved about the room.
(Elana's thoughts)
Even though Pamela carried herself with the confidence and professionalism i would have expected from someone in her position, something was telling me it was all a facade. The way she had a hard time holding my gaze and the way she would nervously stop and lick her lips whenever she paused as she spoke.
Pamela gave off the look of a confident woman but something about her just screamed out to me. And it screamed to me of her need to surrender herself. I have always been a dominant person, even though I have been practising BDSM for only the last year or so. I took great pride in being able to tell these things, to be able to sniff out the urges in certain women so to say.
Submissive women have a sort of anxiousness to please which often comes across as nervousness in the presence of a natural dominant. I fed off of this emotionally, and Pamela was giving me an emotional buffet. I almost laughed at her efforts to attract my attention. She needn't have tried. Pam had all my attention the first time I met her. She was attractive, tall and she had a beautiful shapely figure.